A Meeting of Scarlet and Silver
by sinslikescarlet
Summary: Pietro injures his leg during battle, leaving him unable to walk for two weeks. The only one willing to care for him is his sister, Wanda, and all is well until Agent Coulson tells the speedster to make a choice that will change his life. Rated M for incest, romance, and language
1. Chapter 1

The apartment was always so still when Wanda wasn't there. One would have thought it would be the opposite, especially when one knew the other inhabitant, Pietro, and his mannerisms. It would seem all too likely that there would be music playing in every room (a different kind in every room, of course) and that there would be multiple machines whirring away, all doing different tasks so that the speedster could quickly go back and forth between all of them.

But no—that was not the case. When alone, Pietro tended to stay stagnant. Most days when he had the apartment to himself, he would sleep. Open the windows, let the sun shine in, and warm his still body. Other times, if he couldn't fall asleep, he would read, book after book until he ran out, or until Wanda came home. If it was raining, Pietro would sit in his chair, drink a cup of hot cocoa, and simply watch the rain, drop by drop hitting the windows like an artillery emptying out constant shots of ammunition. The only noise that could be heard would be the steady breathing of the room's sole inhabitant. No music, no television, no radio. Just the calm inhale and exhale of a worn down hero.

It would all change when Wanda arrived. It was then that the noise remerged and echoed through the small apartment with the aid of music, TV, and endless chatter. Wherever Wanda went, Pietro fluttered about her, asking every minute detail of her day, pampering her with soft touches on kisses on the cheek.

Something about the natural chaos of Wanda and her powers made the noise seem so right—so fitting. And that was why Pietro kept things so calm and quiet when she wasn't there. It just didn't feel right.

It was a particularly calm and quiet evening when Pietro heard the click of the door unlocking. His eyes opened from their previously relaxed position, his dark green irises lazily moving to focus on the turning lock. Within a short moment, the mahogany wood was replaced with the beautiful figure of the Scarlet Witch.

On this cold February day, Wanda was comforted by the warm embrace of a large maroon sweater, its tall neck caressing the pale skin. Her cheeks were just a tad bit pink from the cold air outside. She dropped her purse—a pink patchwork of different patterned cloth in the shape of a hobo bag that was a gift from Janet last Christmas—at her feet. It fell with a quiet thud. The first of many to come.

Pietro moved from his spot on the couch, grabbed the bag, put it in its place on Wanda's right nightstand in her bedroom, returned, turned on the radio, and gave his sister a quick peck on the cheek. All within the time of about 1.003 seconds. A bit slow for the speedster, but then again, he was just waking up.

"How'd it go today?" he asked, drawing back from the kiss.

"Slow day. Nothing really big, no bad guys, just working on a negotiation with S.H.I.E.L.D. so that the team doesn't have to have a nanny all the time," Wanda responded, flipping of her red heels.

Again, Pietro took the items, returned them to their place in the closet, and was back beside the witch within 0.507 seconds. He was slowly gaining speed. Taking his sister's hand, he admired the aquamarine ring that he had given her. It resembled a grapevine wrapping around her delicate finger, a mix of diamonds and aquamarine stones. He had had it custom made, having worked with an Austrian jeweler just a month ago. It was a gift of thanks and celebration that warranted such professional talent.

"Pietro, you're standing still."

"And?"

"You're usually a hummingbird when I'm home."

"I just love it when you wear this. Can't I be sentimental sometimes?"

Wanda laughed, taking her hand back as she moved to the kitchen to fix herself a cup of tea. Her brother followed, forever her shadow.

"How's Coulson handling the proposition that we don't need him babysitting us all the time?" he asked, handing his sister the little glass container of sugar.

"He seems to be taking it well. He's continued to work in his puzzle book as we talk with the reps from headquarters, so I think that's good."

"I hope he doesn't think we're trying to get rid of him," Pietro muttered, echoing a sentiment that had been expressed countless times before by other members of the Avengers.

Wanda gave a gentle smile to her brother, put the sugar down, offered her hand. He took it, of course, and held it between his two.

"I'm sure he understands," Wanda sighed, "He's an Avenger in our eyes. I'm sure it's the same for the rest of the team."

"I know, just, I worry."

The witch nodded knowingly. "He's a very dear person to your heart, Pietro."

"You know he's the one that finally gave me the courage to tell you how I truly felt." His gaze again returned to the ring on his sister's finger.

Leading her brother to the couch, Wanda sat, cross-legged in the center. Pietro stood, frowned, and then lifted her petite form up into his arms, holding her close to him. She giggled, enjoying the spontaneous embrace.

"Is there something else bothering you?" the witch asked, sensing her brother's anxiety.

"No," Pietro answered too quickly.

Wanda crawled out of her brother's arms and pulled him down to sit on the couch. To ensure that he wouldn't try and get out of the conversation, she sat in his lap. "Talk to me."

He attempted to avoid her gaze, but he knew better than to do that. It was impossible to stay away from her emerald eyes for too long, especially when he knew it was focused on him, and him alone.

"He's just the only one on the team who knows about us…it's nice not always having to pretend—to know that there's somebody who's going to defend us when the worst comes, whenever that is."

"The worst?"

"When the others find out."

Wanda gave a quizzical look. "How is that the worst?"

"You know they won't be supportive."

"And?"

Pietro stopped at that. And? There was so much that could follow that three letter word. The speedster didn't even know how to begin to explain the countless ways that catastrophe could befall them when their fellow Avengers stopped defending the twins.

"How many times do I have to remind you? It doesn't matter what happens or what others think—as long as we have each other," Wanda said quietly, her hands reaching up and caressing her brother's face.

Pietro took a deep breath in, letter the incoming air flow through him, washing away the worried thoughts.

"I know, I know," he sighed, shutting his eyes, "But you know how I am."

"Remember the first night we were together?" the witch mused.

"Of course," he murmured, "I could never forget it."

Wanda tilted Pietro's head closer to her, their lips meeting for a short moment.

"Then remember how you felt when you first kissed me."


	2. Chapter 2

A small collection of curious onlookers gawked at the strange sight. Captain America, the Scarlet Witch, and Iron Man were carrying the body of the hero known as Quicksilver—and he was clearly not happy about it. He wiggled and squirmed in their grip, occasionally trying to kick one of his rescuers in the face. Well, the unlucky one was anyone but Wanda. He was in enough trouble already, and didn't need his sister getting mad at him for a silly reason such as that.

"Dammit man, stay still! I need to get Pym in to see you and give you some kind of diagnosis," scuffed Tony, his face now visible thanks to his opening up the suit's faceplate.

"He's not that kind of doctor, is he?" questioned Steve, part of his suit charred around his chest. One point of his star was completely obliterated. "I mean, he's good with robots. Pietro isn't one—right?"  
"Fuck you, Steve!" was the speedster's quick reply.

"Brother, watch your language—we are in public," Wanda hissed.

The crowd that had gathered was made up of just about every age. There was an elderly couple, about ten teenagers, some middle-aged men on their lunch break, three kids who had wandered over from the elementary school across the street, and their teacher running after them. Those were just the first few that Pietro spotted. He bit his lip, listening to his sister's orders.

Cap nodded a thanks to Wanda as the group of heroes began to turn, making their way into the lobby of the twin's apartment complex which was conveniently close by. Pietro narrowed his eyes, and twitched his leg, landing a kick to Steve's face. It wasn't too hard, but it made Cap step back, screwing up the balance for a second, which lead to a lot of yelling.

"What was that for-?!" the captain growled, clearly holding back much more vulgar language.

"It was a muscle spasm," Pietro replied coolly.

"Sure it was," remarked Stark. Wanda stayed quiet.

With much difficulty, the group entered the lobby and wandered towards the elevator. The security guard behind the desk looked up and rolled her eyes. She and Pietro didn't particularly get along well, and most likely welcomed the speedster being injured. Of course, the elderly woman who lived one floor below the twins was down getting her mail.

"Oh dear, Miss Wanda, is Peter alright?" she asked, pushing up her glasses.

Ignoring the fact that the woman always mispronounced his name because she thought it was "too foreign for such a pretty boy," Pietro decided it was wise to reply to her.

"No, sorry Mrs. Clark, my leg probably needs to be amputated," he called out to her.

Glaring, Wanda made a face at her brother.

"Oh Lord! I'll pray for you, sweetie!"

Luckily, a pleasant _ding _was heard, two silver doors opening up to the elevator. It must have been either Stark or Rogers that had pressed the button to call the elevator down, as the twins were preoccupied with Mrs. Clark. Thank God it was empty. That was good—especially since Iron Man's armor weighed an incredible amount. The group scrambled in, Tony eyeing the weight limit nervously. The machine groaned a little, moving up slowly once the doors had closed, but it still worked. Stark sighed with relief.

"Thank you for not breaking our elevator," Wanda said coolly, smiling at the group. "That'd be a bill I wouldn't be happy to pay."

"You know I'd handle it," Tony rolled his eyes, "I can afford it."  
"Yeah, Wands. Whenever he farts, $1,000 comes out of his ass. No biggie."  
"Pietro!" his sister giggled, "Please be kind."

Instead, Pietro just smirked, watching the little digital number atop the doors go up one by one. His pocket started to sing "Back in Black"-his phone's current ringtone. Steve reached for him, but Pietro just slapped his hand away. "I got it."

He answered, hearing loud exclamations of anger on the other end. Sighing, he threw the small phone to his sister. Steve caught it for her, since both of her hands were occupied with holding her brother's body up. Holding the device near Wanda's ear, Steve watched her face intently.

"Father," she said in her usual, calm demeanor, "He's fine. Really…it's probably only a fracture…give him a couple days and he'll be back on his feet…no, I don't think he wants to talk to you…father, please calm down…I'll talk to you later." She nodded to Steve, he gladly pushing the end call button for her.

"You just hung up on Magneto," Tony exclaimed.

"I can't imagine being related to someone like Magneto," Cap said, putting the phone in his pocket, "I mean, how do you deal with that?"

Pietro quickly answered for his sister. "We try not to think about it."

The doors opened, and the group moved towards the one door on that level: the door to the twin's apartment. There were perks to being on the Avengers payroll. Steve awkwardly tried to grab the keys from Wanda's pocket, but yet again, he was met with a foot in his face.

"Good lord, Pietro, that was not a muscle spasm!" the soldier growled, warning sign of his waning patience. The speedster kept his expression the same—resting, with a slight sign of pain, overwhelmed with annoyance.

"Here," Wanda interjected, attempting to cool the situation. Her eyes glowed a bit, a friendly shade of pink, and the keys floated from their spot deep in the pockets of her costume to the door, unlocking it. Steve huffed angrily before moving into the living room.

It was well decorated, the style reflecting the twins' European background. The walls were a warm beige, photos and paintings cluttering the space. Bookshelves filled to the brim with books seemed to be every which way one looked. It smelled of herbs and spices that were used in fancy teas exported from England. In the center of the room was a large maroon couch in the shape of a U, covered in pillows.

The group inched over to the sole resting spot, careful not to knock over any stacks of misplaced books, tea-mugs that were still half full, and the occasional loose pillow on the floor.

"Cozy," Tony muttered to himself, not sure how to take the foreign décor.

"I'm sorry we have a different sense of style than you do," Wanda stated matter-of-factly, "but can we just put Pietro down now?"

The men did as instructed, placing Quicksilver down on the couch gently, making sure a pillow was underneath his head. The speedster sighed, clearly relieved to be resting.

"We'll send Pym over ASAP," Tony informed Wanda. "Until then, I'd keep him on the couch."

It was natural for the rest of the team to ignore Pietro's presence unless acknowledging him was completely necessary. Most times it was annoying, but right now, he was thankful for it. He'd really rather be left alone.

"If you need anything just call," Steve noted, hastily making his way to the door.

Wanda nodded and waved at her teammates. "We'll see you soon."

With that, the two left, leaving Wanda and Pietro alone, enabling the witch to scold her brother in private.

"What was that?" she snarled, turning to face her brother straight on.

Closing his eyes, Pietro prepared for the verbal attack. "Nothing."

"Nothing my ass! You're lucky you're injured because otherwise I'd be yelling at you right now!"

"This isn't yelling?"

"Hush," Wanda retorted, running a hand through Pietro's white hair. "Relax. I'm going to wash that bitterness away with a warm cup of tea."


	3. Chapter 3

The warmth of the tea permeated throughout Pietro's body, his sister's presence next to him on the couch only amplifying the feeling. On the television a documentary on revolutionary France played, though for the most part, the speedster ignored it. He chose instead to watch Wanda. She was too absorbed in the program to notice his staring.

The brunette was the most calming thing in the world for Pietro. When everything else in the world seemed to aggravate him, she never did. Not even when she was mad at him. It was because of Wanda that he considered himself the luckiest man in the world. As long as she was there, he could continue breathing. She had caused him to forget about the pain that was piercing in his leg—he wasn't sure if that was because of her mutant abilities, or if it was just healing personality.

Of course, they were interrupted by a buzz. Someone was requesting to come up and see the twins. The security guard probably didn't recognize their visitor, and kept them in the lobby before allowing them to go up. Wanda was taken out of her trance and went over to the box by the door that allowed her to talk with whoever was downstairs.

"Hello?"

"My Lady Wanda!" a deep voice boomed, "I have come with the Lady Jane to heal your brother!"

Thor. Pietro was relatively certain that Thor didn't have an inside-voice. Everything was shouting. Perhaps that's just how they speak on Asgard. Usually Pietro actually enjoyed Thor, but right now, he wanted to remain alone with his sister.

"Oh, hello Thor! Come on up!" Wanda said cheerfully.

Why did his sister have to be so nice?

It was about five minutes later that they arrived. For some strange reason Thor had brought Mjolnir, and the elevator couldn't lift its weight. So he had to leave it with the security guard, which he wasn't all too happy about. Nonetheless, both the Norse god and his companion were now in the apartment.

Wanda, being a good host, offered the two tea and slices of pound cake. Thor took both, Jane politely declined. "I'm here for Pietro," she reasoned.

The twins hadn't really met Jane Foster before—they'd seen her at the Avengers Christmas party last year, but that was it. She seemed very kind, however, and Wanda had remarked about how much she liked the woman's dress. Pietro was cautious and tried his best to stay positive.

"I thought you were a scientist," the speedster mentioned as the woman examined his ankle.

"I am, though originally I was a nurse. Science simply distracted me," she grinned.

Thor was surprisingly quiet, simply munching on his cake and taking deep sips of tea. He watched Jane with an intensity that Pietro knew all too well—a loving gaze, never shifting to anything else out of fear that the beauty before him will disappear at any moment. Pietro suddenly felt a warm connection to the boisterous god.

Once Jane had looked him over well enough, she grabbed an ointment and some ace-bandages to apply to the wounded area. "Well my friend, you have one hell of a stab wound, but you're already healing wonderfully."

"Stab wound?" Wanda questioned. "I thought it was a sprain!"

"Oh no," Jane said matter-of-factly, spreading a cool ointment on Pietro's leg, "He was definitely stabbed. Not too long of blade lucky for you, but there was some sort of poison on the blade itself."

Wanda looked as though she was about to faint. "Poison?!"

"It would have been lethal if he hadn't had his mutant healing factor," Jane replied.

"I don't have a healing factor," Pietro informed Jane.

"In a way, you do," she argued. "Your speed isn't just physical, it's everywhere in your body. Everything is amplified because of your gift." Jane gave Pietro a smile before finishing wrapping up the wound.

"What a grand discovery, Lady Jane!" Thor boasted, raising his tea glass high in praise. She blushed, embarrassed.

"So, what can I do to help him?" Wanda asked, hovering over Jane's shoulder.

"Apply this ointment on his wound every four hours, and replace his bandages every time you do so. And he's not allowed to walk for two weeks, minimum. Running will be at least a month or two away," Jane instructed.

"What?!" Pietro gasped. "I'm going to be a vegetable for the next month!?"

"If Jane says so, then yes you are, mister!" Wanda growled, her eyes like lasers.

"I'll come back to check up on you in a few days," Jane said, going to wash her hands in the sink just as Thor finished his fourth piece of pound cake. "You may want to bake another cake for my boyfriend here."

Wanda went from the protective sister to agreeable host in seconds, laughing with Jane. "Of course, not a problem at all!"

The couple exchanged pleasant goodbyes with the twins before leaving the apartment. Wanda was back at her brother's side, playing with his hair, an old habit from when they were young. Pietro shut his eyes and took in the sweet sensation, practically purring.

"You're going to need somebody to take care of you for the next month, brother…" Wanda mused, "…a task I am more than glad to take."

Pietro opened his eyes to look at his sister. She was looking down at him, a look of both care and concern etched upon her face. There was no surprise that Wanda would offer herself up as her brother's caretaker. In reality she was the only person that could deal with him for more than an hour at a time. She had grown accustomed to his snarky remarks, cold facial expressions, and sarcastic attitude after 25 years.

"Thanks Wands," Pietro said quietly, looking away shyly.


	4. Chapter 4

It had been two days since Jane visited and treated Pietro's wound. Two days of lazing around the house. Of Wanda carrying her brother from his bed to the living room to wherever else he may need to go. Of being alone with his thoughts. Somehow it had only been two days, yet it felt like two hundred years.

At this time, Pietro lay stiffly in his bed, stubbornly crossing his arms. The mindless drone of the television filled his ears, but he didn't really listen. His eyes wandered, occasionally resting on an object of interest, then moving onto the next. There was his bookshelf, occupying most of the left wall, it filled with hundreds of books on every subject imaginable. Beside his worn copy of _The Hobbit _was a bouquet of sunflowers. He didn't remember that being there when he was first plopped down in his room.

The speedster smiled, knowing his sister must have put them there. She was always looking out for him, even when he was being a pain in the ass—which he recognized was quite often. He sighed, a scolding thought flying through his head.

_"__You're such a jerk. Why does she put up with you?"_

He bit his lip, hoping the pain would rush the negative thought away. It didn't work. Instead, more arrived, this time in droves.

_"__You're such a burden on her."_

_"__You always get in the way of her happiness."_

An image of the great Captain America popped up in his mind. Wanda clearly cared for him—how couldn't she? He was handsome, strong, and the perfect gentleman. The question was, why couldn't he let his sister get close to Cap? He knew he would treat her right—he'd love her, keep her safe, and make her smile when she was sad.

Yet, whenever he thought of Steve holding Wanda in his arms, rage boiled up in Pietro. He knew that he was in love with his sister—more than just the familial love that most siblings held for each other. He had known for years that he did, and had come to accept it, though he was deeply ashamed of it.

The bright yellow sunflowers seemed to mock him now, each petal showing that Wanda did love him, but not in the way he truly wanted her to. He turned his head away, choosing instead to look at the television, but it couldn't possibly occupy his mind for long. Again, he was attacked, the pour of harsh thoughts like a river overflowing.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" he muttered angrily to himself, shaking his head frantically. Maybe he could toss the thoughts out of his head? He hoped they'd spill out his ears. It worked in cartoons, why not now?

He was interrupted by a knock on his door. Pietro stopped moving and tried to look as bored as possible. Wanda popped her head in through the now-open door. She smiled warmly, her cherry red lips spreading into a pleasant grin.

"Hey Petey. I see you're up. Hungry?"

The speedster tried not to look at his sister for too long—seeing her beautiful form would only bring the thoughts back, but so much louder.

"Yeah, I could eat," he said nonchalantly.

"I'll make something real quick. Any requests?"

Pietro gulped and faced his sister, trying his best to ignore his now rising heartbeat. "You don't have to dote on me just because I twisted my ankle, you know, Wands?"

The witch's smile was only gone for a second, but it was long enough for Pietro to feel like jumping out a window.

"It's what big sisters are supposed to do," the witch winked.

"You're only three minutes older!" Pietro said a little too loudly, "That isn't enough time for you to say you're my big sister."

Wanda laughed, her melodic voice reminiscent of a lovebird's song. Pietro could feel his cheeks redding as he watched her.

"I think it does," she smirked, skipping over to her brother's bedside.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Pietro muttered.

"Don't be such a sour-Pete," Wanda scolded, leaning over to kiss his forehead.

The speedster's heart rate now raced, seemingly challenging his body of how far it could go before he had a heart attack. He bit his lip and looked down at his hands.

"I'll check up on you later," Wanda said, slipping out of the bedroom and closing the door.

Pietro sighed, running his hands through his white hair in anguish. She just had to give him a kiss. Yes, it was an innocent one that was on the forehead, but he longed for so much more. Perhaps that kiss could be the start, her lips softly embracing Pietro's face—his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and then his lips. They would caress each other, moving slowly. The kiss would transform into something much deeper as he slid his tongue into her mouth. She'd taste like strawberries—freshly picked and bursting with juice. His hands would pull at her shirt, drawing his sister closer to him, only intensifying the embrace. Her hands would go down Pietro's chest and tug at his jeans and—oh.

Looking down, back in reality, the mutant now saw that his imagination had gone a little too wild, and had given him an erection.

"Not again," he gasped, again pulling his hair. "Damn it, every time."

He debated on whether or not he should enjoy this unwanted happenstance, or do the right thing and ignore it. He spent a good five minutes weighing his options, and once he made up his mind, there was another knock on his door. That made his decision for him. Grabbing the nearest pillow and placing it over his crotch, he again pretended to be interested in the television.

Wanda came in, two cups of tea in her hands. The blue cup, big and short, was Pietro's. Wanda's was a tall, skinny, red cup. She smiled at her brother, handed him his tea—a calm green chai—and then took the spot next to him on the bed. He gave her a shy smile, trying not to see her when he looked at her. Actually looking at her would make his problem worse.

"Do you mind if we watch Downton Abbey?" she asked, blowing on her drink.

"Uh, yeah, sure," he tried to respond—which probably came out as a couple strained grunts.

The prim and proper show was just what Pietro needed to get rid of his erection. There was nothing hot about old rich people bitching at their servants for putting the wrong fork in the wrong place on the table. And the tea helped even more.

He had started to doze off some when he heard a loud buzz. Someone was at their apartment door, and wanted in? The twins didn't really have friends, except for the Avengers. Wanda had plenty, but they never came over to see her. They knew her annoying brother would be there, and that was a deal breaker.

As Pietro sleepily mused at who it could be, Wanda got up from her spot and answered the door. The speedster was the one who usually opened the door for guests—after deciding whether or not they were worth spending more than five minutes with, but with his leg, he remained in bed. He hoped it wasn't someone stupid. Or worse, a man trying to woo his sister. He would get out of bed to stop that, even if it did hurt.

Pietro turned the TV off, and tried to listen in. It was a male voice, that much was clear. He began to position himself so that he could get out of bed—mainly by rolling out of the bed and onto the carpeted floor, but he quickly deemed doing that unnecessary.

Wanda again appeared at the door, looking a bit uneasy.

"Hey, Pete, Agent Coulson is here to see you."

Pietro sat up straight again, confused. Why would he want to see him? And why would he make a house call?


	5. Chapter 5

As his mind raced as to why on Earth Coulson was at the apartment, wanting to talk to him and not the more likeable inhabitant, Pietro smoothed back his hair, making sure he looked at least somewhat presentable. It was a pointless effort, especially since he was wearing a baggy T-shirt and sweat pants with lightning bolts printed on them.

"Send him in," the speedster instructed, trying to hide just how confused he was. Wanda nodded and disappeared from sight, obeying her brother. In her place, the ever-professional Agent Coulson stood. Of course, he was in his usual attire—black slacks, black suit coat, black tie, and white dress shirt. It was almost as if color was against the dress-code at SHIELD.

"Mind if I close the door?" he inquired, staring the mutant down. The look wasn't quite critical, more worried. That didn't help Pietro's already curious mind.

"Uh yeah. Is something wrong?" Pietro asked, worry filling him. One by one, Pietro crossed off all the possible things Coulson could be here to scold him for, but nothing seemed serious enough for a house call. Everything was simply mischievous, and nothing more than that. Unless…perhaps it was about his injury.

"That depends on your moral standing," the agent answered, leaning against the now-closed door. He took a moment, pausing, almost as though he was waiting for something. Maybe Wanda was trying to listen in.

"You want to tell me, or should I tell you?" he asked after a couple of minutes.

Pietro narrowed his eyes. "Exactly what am I telling you? I'm clueless here." He made sure he was sitting up straight with crossed arms to make sure his point was clear.

Coulson gave a heavy sigh, almost as though he was actually sorry he had to give one of his Avengers whatever news he was about to give. Though, Quicksilver really doubted that. The only person who actually liked Pietro was his sister, and he was pretty certain she was alone in that opinion.

The agent kept the same cool expression. "You're telling me why you really got injured out there the other day."

Now this was out of left field. "Some asshole baddie wanted to look cool and stabbed me. You saw it, I'm sure with all your fancy SHIELD surveillance," Pietro responded, his anger rising. What exactly was the agent trying to say? That he got hurt on purpose? That he was working for the enemy? He knew he was jumping to conclusions but ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him to slow down, like usual.

"If that's what you think…" The agent put two fingers to the bridge of his nose, clearly going from one plan to another. "We saw something that I'm not sure you did, Pietro…" Coulson said, distracted by his own thoughts. He pulled out one of Stark's state of the art tablets and brought a video up.

It was only two seconds, but it was on a loop, showing the exact moment that Pietro had been stabbed. Frame by frame, the video spotlighted the speedster fighting off several enemies at once, with Stark at his side, when one came up from behind and got a knife in Pietro's leg.

"What exactly am I missing here?" Pietro asked, looking up at Coulson and ignoring the video.

Coulson spanned out, showing the rest of the Avengers fighting, then zoomed in on Wanda. She was fighting alongside Steve, taking on a large group. She was focusing on building a shield around herself and the Captain so she could send some hex blasts safely, but one of the baddies had broken away from the group. And was charging full speed at the Scarlet Witch. It was at that very moment that Pietro looked over at her, and was injured.

Pietro remained unfazed. "Okay, big deal. Typical fight. What's so special other than me getting stabbed?"

"Are you playing dumb or being serious?" the agent asked, surprisingly sounding genuinely curious.

Pietro just glared back. Coulson nodded and pocketed the tablet. "There's really no subtle way to go about this. Pietro Maximoff, you've been compromised."

"Excuse me?!" Pietro exclaimed. This entire situation was so odd, and now, Coulson was trying to say that he was compromised? That term was only used when an agent was actively fighting against their organization, like double agents, or in cases of extremely destructive behavior. "You're going to have to run that by me again."

"You're clearly distracted while fighting. You've already gotten yourself hurt, what about them? What about the rest of the team?" he explained.

"What exactly is distracting me, Coulson? What on Earth is distracting me so much that I've been compromised?" Pietro questioned, struggling not to get up and punch the agent in the face. He may respect Phil greatly, but this was uncalled for.

"Your sister."

"Exactly how so?" There was a sinking feeling in Pietro's stomach. There was no way that he could know…could he?  
"You're in love with her," the agent stated. It wasn't anything close to a question—Coulson said this like he would say that the sky is blue or that Fury wore an eye patch.

Shit.

It was this very moment that Pietro could swear that his heart stopped beating for a full minute. For a while he was totally silent, not even breathing. It was as though his blood had turned to ice. The man that was usually so quick slowed down, skidding to a halt.

Pietro tried his best to keep his best poker face up, but he knew it must have waivered. He had been quiet for far too long. But, no one had questioned the twins' relationship before, and certainly not this direct. He wasn't prepared for this.

"Of course I love her, she's my sister," Pietro noted, trying to play it cool. "How could that compromise me?"

Coulson simply shut his eyes and sighed deeply, one of his hands going up to massage his temple. "No playing games, Quicksilver. You know exactly what I mean." It was the agent's turn to glare this time.

There was a long pause—it may have only been seconds, maybe a minute or so, but that didn't mean anything to Pietro. It felt like years, like eons had passed in that awful silence. He could feel the fear building up in him, the panic that was beginning to take hold.

"How long have you known?" he finally asked, Pietro's usually livid green eyes now cold and clouded. The speedster had been discovered, his darkest secret exposed.

"I was afraid I was right…" the agent muttered to himself. "About six months. We didn't want to confront you until we were absolutely certain."

Another pang of panic hit Pietro in the gut. "Who else knows?" He hung his head in shame, white locks blocking his eyes.

"Only Director Fury and myself. For now, your secret is safe with us."

"For now?" Pietro peaked from behind his bangs, discovering that it was somehow possible for him to be filled with even more anxiety. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"You have two options, Mr. Maximoff. You can either tell Wanda, or I can." Phil was quiet, almost as though he felt bad for Pietro. Either that or he pitied him.

"You know I can't do that," Pietro answered shakily, trying his best not to reveal the emotions that were taking over him.

"Then I'll call Wanda in and tell her."

"You can't do that!" Pietro hissed, the life returning to the speedster.

"You may have been able to keep your feelings in check for however many years you've been in love with her, but you've lost that control. My own personal hypothesis is that it has something to do with Captain Rogers and his fondness for your sister, however, that doesn't matter. What matters is getting you back in fighting condition."

"I'm not a fucking science project, Coulson. This is my life," Pietro spat out bitterly.

"You're taking time off to recover from your injury. The director and I are willing to give you that time to try and fix this. If not, we will have to intervene."

"I don't think you're hearing me—I can't have Wanda find out how I feel. She'd never be able to look at me in the eye ever again, let alone keep the close relationship that we have now. I…I can't lose her. She's the only one I have." Pietro ran his hands through his snowy hair, searching for just the right words.

"She's going to find out one way or another. If not from you, it'll be from me."

"I'd kill you first."  
"No you wouldn't."

Pietro chuckled. The agent was completely right. There was no way that he could hurt Phil, even if he was a huge pain in the ass.

"Wait a moment, shouldn't you be lecturing me on how this is an abomination and against the laws of nature? Shouldn't you be throwing holy water on me and chanting something in Latin?" Pietro wondered.

"Mr. Maximoff, you're a consenting adult. So is Wanda, if she feels the same way. That's all I care about," Coulson noted.

"So, exactly how long do I have?"  
"With your speedy healing process, Dr. Foster estimates that you will be healed in about a month. We wish you the best of luck, Mr. Maximoff. If assistance is required, SHIELD will gladly help. Our Avengers are our top priority—"

"Save it. I know the spiel. I'll figure something out."

"I'm glad to hear that, Quicksilver."

With that, Coulson left the room swiftly, leaving Pietro yet again alone with his thoughts.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been about a week since Agent Coulson visited Wanda and Pietro's apartment, and the speedster still remained quiet about his feelings for his sister. Without fail, each evening at 6:05, the twins would get a phone call from Agent Coulson. And, without fail, he asked for Mister Maximoff. Luckily for Pietro, the agent spoke in a code, just in case Wanda was listening in on the call.

"Have you given your sister that necklace you got her yet?" was the typical question. When the mutant would answer no, the agent would chuckle and respond, "No time like the present," before saying goodbye. It was odd at first, but now the speedster had begun to expect it. This evening, however, was different.

"You haven't ever given someone a gift like this before, have you Pietro?" Coulson asked, catching the other man off guard.

"I, uhm, no I haven't." He assumed Phil meant confessing love to someone. "I've never had the money," he added, trying to keep with the code.

"It's hard to figure out the right time, but in reality, there is no perfect time," the agent said. How reassuring.

"Have you done something like this before?" Pietro inquired, a tad bit curious.

"I'm too busy with work."

"Oh. Uh, okay."

"Goodnight, Mr. Maximoff."

"Night Phil."

The concern that Coulson showed towards Pietro was uncharacteristic, but he appreciated every moment of it. In the few seconds that the mutant was still hardly conscious, he wouldn't have those knots in his stomach, he wouldn't be playing out every possible scenario of how things could go if he told Wanda that moment. He wouldn't be aware of anything but the warmth of his bed and the little bit of sun sneaking into the dark room. He savored those few moments of peace, though he knew how silly it was. All he had to do was say three words to his sister, and all this anxiety would go away. Then he would replace all that anxiety with sadness. A perfect exchange.

Hanging up the phone, Pietro made the decision that tonight was the night. No more delays, no more putting it off. He only prayed that Wanda would let him down easy. Of course, one might say he was thinking about the whole situation much too negatively. With the odd nature of Wanda and Pietro's relationship, and just how close the twins were, for some this would make sense. However, Pietro told himself that was unrealistic, and in his mind, unrealistic was putting it gently.

He hoped against all logic that his sister would confess her own love, that she had been feeling the same way, and was overcome with joy that her brother had made the choice to tell her. But he wasn't preparing for that. In all honesty, Pietro didn't know what he would do if Wanda responded positively, and he had every intention of keeping that way. There was no point in his preparing for something so improbable that it bordered on the absurd.

The mutant had played out scenarios of how to respond if Wanda was grossed out, outraged, flattered, disappointed, etc, and he knew exactly what to say. Most ended with him apologizing profusely, and ending with "I just had to tell you. I'm sorry, Wands."

Having taken the phone call in his bedroom, Pietro gathered himself, grabbed the crutches he technically wasn't supposed to be using yet, and made his way into the living room. Wanda was seated on the carpet, meditating.

God damn, she was so beautiful. How could he not be in love with her? The way her chestnut hair fell down past her shoulders and curled just right. Her lips were a perfect shade of red, soft and glossy, even without make-up. Whenever his sister mediated, her eyes had this glow to them—like she was seeing another world—a better one, perhaps. Pietro bit his lip. Maybe this was a bad time.

It was too late. Wanda lowered her hands from their worshipful position and turned to face her brother.

"Evening Petey," she smiled, getting up from the floor. "What's up?"

Nope, no, no way. There was simply no chance of Pietro telling her tonight. All the courage, all the prep that he had done, it all flew out the window the second she smiled.

"Just wanted a change in scenery," he responded, "My ass is tired of sitting on my bed and would prefer to sit on the couch."

Wanda let out a laugh, grinning even wider now. "Then don't let me get in the way of your ass." She moved over to the kitchen, setting up a kettle for tea.

"Mind making me a cup?" the mutant requested, slowly lowering himself onto the center of the couch.

"I'm way ahead of you," she called. "I got one started once the phone rang." Grabbing the cup and sauntering back over, she handed him the drink. "What's with Phil calling you, by the way?"

Pietro thanked God that he had a quick mind. Due to his mutation, Pietro was able to think countless thoughts that would usually take an hour in just a moment, and at this moment, he tried to come up with something to say.

He could tell her the truth. That was always an option. However, he preferred not to take that route. This was perhaps one of the worst times to inform his sister of his incestuous feelings for her. There was nothing romantic about the setting whatsoever, and that wouldn't be allowed. It had to be nothing less than perfect.

His next option was to lie. Pietro hated the thought of it. He had tried his best to keep it so that he only lied when it came to surprise parties, whenever Pietro had been out drinking, been with a prostitute, or the ever infamous statement, "It'll be alright." Damn he hated this. A few profanities ran through the speedster's head until he finally came up with an idea.

"He's just checking up on my progress," Pietro said nonchalantly, blowing on his drink. It wasn't really lying. Phil was asking about the mutant's progress—just not the kind of progress that Wanda would assume it was. He was feeling rather smug before Wanda sat down.

She hadn't exactly sat down. She more or less sat on Pietro's lap.

That was new.

Even with how close they were, she had never sat on his lap. She'd sat next to him, stretched her legs over his lap, and rested her head on his shoulder…just about everything except for sit on his lap.

Pietro made a disgruntled sound as his sister made herself comfortable. His best defense was to cry wolf and say that it hurt his leg, but he had just almost lied to Wanda. He didn't want to do it again.

In response, Wanda laughed and got up, deciding to rest on the other side of her brother. "Sorry, Petey, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"S'alright," he responded before taking a deep drink of his tea. "Hm, peach. This is a new flavor."

"I had Cap do an errand run for me and they must have been out of our usual, so he just picked up whatever looked good," she informed him.

"When was that?" Pietro couldn't help but be a bit annoyed at the mention of Rogers. He knew that once he finally confessed his love for his sister, she'd probably get with the Captain as soon as possible.

"What do you have against Steve?"

He should have seen that coming.

Pietro glared down at his cup. The drink was good, but it had come from his romantic rival. "I just think he's a bit too friendly to you, Wands, that's all."

"Bull shit," Wanda retorted, giving a friendly elbow nudge to her brother. "There's something more to it."

He knew what he wanted to say. He wanted to tell her that it was because he loved her, that he saw the captain as an obstacle to gaining his sister's love. Not only was Rogers that, but also a distraction. Even if somehow the captain didn't have feelings for Wanda, there was a chance that she did.

And that thought hurt more than any of the others.

"Do we have to talk about this?" Pietro grumbled, turning his head away from his sister. He didn't want her to see the jealous look in his eyes.

"This might be my only chance of getting to talk about it without you running away."

"So you're taking advantage of my wound?"

"Exactly."

"What are you going to do after this? Tell me everything that's wrong with me? Make me talk about my feelings?"

"It would be a nice change!"

Pietro turned to look at his sister now. The jealousy that had plagued him now was gone—it had been replaced with curiosity.

"What do you mean by that?" he asked, testing the waters. Could this be the time…?

"I mean that I wish you would tell me how you feel. It's always a guessing game for me. Most of the time I can tell, but sometimes…" Now she looked away.

"Sometimes what?" Pietro asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Sometimes I just don't know. And hate that. I want to know if you're happy, if you're sad, if you're angry—I want to know how you feel, because if I don't…I don't know how to help you."

Her shoulders were shaking. She was on the edge of tears. The sudden burst of emotion was about to take its toll.

"Wands," Pietro started, putting his cup on the end table. "You always help me. In more ways than you know."

"Then why does it feel like you're hiding something from me?"

How the hell was he supposed to answer that? He was hiding something from her, but he had thought he'd been doing his sister a favor by not telling her. Wanda cared for him. Yes, he knew that. But if kept up this façade, it would only hurt his sister.

Suddenly, there was a realization in Pietro's head. Coulson wasn't having him do this just for Pietro's sake, but for Wanda's as well. Perhaps what had sparked the initial investigation that lead to Coulson discovering Pietro's secret was Wanda. Maybe one day, she said something in passing to the agent about her concern, and he decided to look into it. Of course, he had kept quiet about it until just recently, but still.

"I am," the speedster answered, "I thought it would be better this way."

"Pietro, what would make you think such a thing?" Wanda asked, tears about to flow. She put her hands on her brother's shoulders, gripping tight. Almost as if she was afraid he was going to run away any second.

"Because I'm afraid." Pietro hung his head in shame, the regret building up in him weighing a ton on his heart.

"What could you possibly be afraid of telling me?" Wanda asked, confusion spread across her face.

This was it. He knew there wouldn't be a better time than this. He had to tell her. He could do this, it was just three simple words. One was barely considered a word—it was actually just a letter. The knots in his stomach tightened, the anxiety and fear nearly overwhelming him. His damn mouth went completely dry, the words blowing away like dust.

No. He had to tell her. Pietro wouldn't keep hurting her like this.

"I love you."  
There. He'd said it. Now…the reaction.

"And I love you too, Petey, but you have to tell me what you're so afraid of telling me." She almost seemed annoyed.

He had to be clearer. His mind raced faster than it had ever before, desperate to find the right wording, but it was so hard to hear his thoughts when the pounding of his heart was more like a war drum.

"No, Wanda," Pietro gasped, barely able to speak, "I'm _in _love with you."

She started to lecture him that he couldn't hold everything inside forever but stopped speaking when the words registered. Oh God. Here it comes. Pietro shut his eyes in anticipation of the negative response, steeling himself to take any hateful word his sister could throw at him.

"You are?"

Pietro's eyes flickered open, surprised by those two words. He was expecting pervert, disgusting, scum, freak, anything along those lines. Not this.

"I…I am. Have been since we turned 15."

Wanda blinked, eyes wide. She was taking it so much better than Pietro had expected. That was a relief, but at the same time, she still seemed confused at the statement.

"You don't have to tell me that it's not okay. I know that. I shouldn't feel this way, but I do. I just had to tell you."

Wanda remained quiet, simply looking at her brother with wide eyes.

"I'll understand if you don't want to talk to me for a while—hell, I'll understand if you never want to talk to me again—"

"Stop talking."

Pietro obeyed. Certain that he was about to be yelled at, he didn't want to do anything else that could get him in even deeper shit.

Wanda put a finger on her brother's lips just to make sure he understood.

"You're being honest with me?"

He nodded his head.

Wanda pulled back, moving to the polar opposite end of the couch. It was only a couple feet, but it seemed like a continent.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"I said, prove it."

"How?" This wasn't making any sense. He hadn't prepared for this.

"Kiss me."


End file.
